


until the sirens stop

by DreamingStarkly



Series: one more troubled soul [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: A bunch of dumb nerds being dumb and in love, Asexual Character, Asexuality Spectrum, Confessions, Face Touching because of course, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Panromantic Characters, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 05:04:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3923929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingStarkly/pseuds/DreamingStarkly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Insomnia hits the trio after an unexpected case. </p><p>Sleepover games, beer, face touching, and confessions ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	until the sirens stop

**Author's Note:**

> This is borne of me desperately needing Avocado Family hurt/comfort shmoop and not being able to find anything substantial other than smut. Please note that I am posting this at 2AM after my evening shift. I apologize for any inconsistencies in plot, grammar, or character portrayal. I needed to spew this.
> 
> Apologies for any unrealistic portrayals of law firms. I would ask my lawyer partner for clarifications, but he’s busy watching the most recent Hobbit. And not weeping over Daredevil, I guess. His loss. 
> 
> Trigger warning for brief, non-detailed allusions to sexual assault and other traumas the characters have already been through.

 

____________

 

  
_To those of us fighting devils._

_You’re not alone. You never were._

 

____________

 

Matt’s mouth was sinful. He may not be able to see it himself, but Foggy was absolutely sure the asshole knew enough to repent it in confession. Or something. Point being, Matt had to know his mouth tore up heartstrings and he had to feel bad about it like the good Catholic boy he was. 

Yeah. Matt needed to stop doing that smirky thing.

Foggy allowed himself these thoughts on occasion. _Only_ on occasion. Because it would be super unethical to let his thoughts mutate into foot-in-mouth disease. It was bad enough that he let things slip in law school, and nearly again That Night. Matt was either clueless or didn’t care that his business partner harbored a lowkey crush. It wasn’t that big of a deal. He dealt with it (mostly through continued unresolved trysts—i.e. Marci), and it was enough to have his best friend alive and around and (mostly) knowing the truth about his alter ego. Not to mention having a superhero boyfriend always meant tragic death. Well, that’s what always happened in the comics, anyway. Stupid, misogynistic, homophobic comics...

“I told you they were going to love it,” Matt commented, failing to conceal his smug expression.

“How—?” Foggy stuttered. “You can’t even—! You know this episode, don’t you?”

Matt snickered, holding up a hand. “No, I swear!”

“You know what, never mind. I’m never watching this show with you ever again.”

“I mean, I’ve never really _watched_ it with you.”

Foggy kicked at Matt’s leg. Asshole dodged with his spidey senses.

“Are you two arguing over a Love It or List It marathon?”

Karen was leaning against the doorway of the kitchenette, raising her brow at the couple on the TV happily serving dinner in their newly refurbished dining room.

“Um. No, we were just setting up the new TV!” Foggy patted the squat little television squished onto the counter beside the microwave. “Matt wouldn’t let me keep it in my office.”

“I thought it was something everyone in the office should enjoy,” Matt told him pointedly.

“It is!” Foggy protested. “It works with audio description and everything! Well, HGTV doesn’t have them. I think you can write a request or something, though.”

“Well, if you two are finished with your HGTV break, I got a call from a potential client.” 

 

____________

 

 

Turned out the client was the mother of a toddler whose well-connected father was positioned to win custody. The guy apparently wanted to use the woman’s lack of income as leverage.  Dekah explained how, after fleeing Somalia with her parents, her father contributed what he could to put her through college. Despite a medical degree back home, her father was unable to find anything better than a grocer market in Hell’s Kitchen. In order to pay for the cost of living in the city, Dekah had to do math tutoring through the university. The father of her child was one of the students she worked with nearly three years previously, a white man from a wealthy family. Karen noticed Matt’s jaw tick, and Foggy’s normally cordial expression turn sour. After the woman shakily told them how she got pregnant in the first place, Karen quickly excused herself from the table to make coffee.

As soon as she got into the kitchenette, she took a moment to calm her racing heart and stomp down the memories that were threatening to cloud her vision. She pinched herself a couple of times, muttering under her breath to convince herself where she was, when she was.

After another minute, she managed to make the coffee with shaking hands. Her hands were steady by the time she handed a cup to Dekah.

“Hey Karen? Why don’t you start looking up relevant statutes? We’ll wrap things up here,” Matt said as she was walking back to her seat at the table.

Karen started nodding, then caught herself. “Um. Yeah, sure. Like the ones from the Riverford case?”

“That’d be perfect, thanks,” Matt told her with a gentle smile. Karen could catch an out when it’s given, and she was grateful for it.

Matt eventually left with Dekah, presumably to talk with her employers at the university. Karen and Foggy sorted through some old case files, and pulled up references from similar custody battles in the state. Matt called around 6pm, asking them to look into the university’s code of conduct.

9pm was approaching when the phone rang again.

“Nelson & Murdock,” she prompted.

“Hello? Is Mr. Murdock there?”

“Miss Aden?” Karen asked, recognizing the voice.

“Yes, is this Miss Page? I need to get in contact with Mr. Murdock.”

“Um, he’s not currently in the office. Is he not with you? Did he not give you his cell?”

“He won’t answer.” The woman sounded tense, but not enough to make Karen too worried.

“Is there an emergency, Miss Aden?”

“No, not exactly. It’s just…” Karen heard Dekah inhale. “Garrett was arrested about an hour ago. It...it’s all over the news and I’m not sure what I need to do?”

“Wait, what happened?”

“Garrett. He was arrested for—for threatening Ibrahim,” Dekah said, her voice breaking. “We’re okay, but I’m at the hospital and the police are here and—”

“Um, give me just a minute. I’m going to get you in touch with Foggy—I mean Mr. Nelson.”

Karen gestured Foggy over to the phone, and let him get Dekah’s information down so he could meet her at the hospital.

“I’ll try getting Matt on the line,” Karen told him as he headed out the door. Foggy paused.

“Don’t worry about Matt. He texted me, saying that he was following a lead with the university. Divide and conquer, right?” He shrugged on his jacket. “Go ahead and head home, we’ll debrief in the morning.”

She stayed behind anyway. Her stomach churned at the thought of going back home and trying to go to sleep after a day of looking up rapist custody cases. These days she considered herself pretty good at compartmentalizing. Or maybe that was just the trauma. Karen couldn’t really tell anymore.  

Not to mention the persistent nightmares. They weren’t quite as fresh anymore, but they plagued her almost every night. She wasn’t screaming herself awake in a cold sweat anymore. She was just in a cold sweat these days, feeling like something was choking her, pressing on her chest and trachea.

After Fisk was put away, Karen couldn’t help but feel like she was back to being just a secretary. She couldn’t bear opening up Ben’s old files that Mrs. Urich sent over a few months back. She just wasn’t ready for that, to put herself out there and start digging into the shit of the city again.

After about the tenth cup of coffee and halfway through an episode of some History Channel show about Hitler and aliens, Karen decided that she should probably get out of the office. It would be Frowned Upon if Foggy found her in the same clothes. She really needed to start stowing extra clothes in her desk.

She checked her phone again, having texted Matt for an update. The last thing he said was that he was home going through paperwork. That was about an hour ago. She asked him if he needed any help, but she didn’t hear anything else.

Karen chewed her lip in thought. She could go to her apartment. Or she could not spend another sleepless night alone. She could invite herself over, under the pretense of helping him out. Matt understood. Well, he probably understood as much as she would let him. Trauma was funny that way, easy to disguise underneath other traumas. Until you can’t really tell what was the primary cause of your nightmares anymore.

She trusted Matt and Foggy, but she wasn’t sure she trusted herself enough to let them know the whole truth.

But she could really use another human being around. Even if Matt just let her lounge on his couch, use his wifi while he slept. Decision made, Karen locked up the office and headed towards Matt’s apartment building.

 

____________

 

 

It was nights like these when he really, really missed Claire.

Not necessarily for the great threadwork on his ripped flesh, though that was nice too. At the moment, Matt was feeling around the torn edges of the wound on his forearm, making sure his aim was decent before sticking the haphazardly-sanitized needle through the skin. Nights like these he wasn’t half dead, bleeding out on his floor. Just a few nicks and scrapes and bruised ribs because he didn’t have time to put on the suit.

Nights like these, he was lucky. At least physically. _Nope_ , he thought as he tied off the string and felt around the table for the antibiotic. He could admit this to himself; _Fuck, I miss her hands_. 

As much as Foggy liked to tease him about his supposed Casanova complex, it wasn’t for sexual reasons. Claire’s voice and hands in tandem let him forget all the shit the city was falling into. It gave him something to focus on rather than the pain. Something to feel and hear other than the sirens that never, ever stopped. No matter how many assholes he knocked into the gutter.

Matt twisted his mouth in distaste as the antibiotic slipped from his fingers. Probably should have foregone that last glass of gin. He could hear the sirens now, two in particular getting louder as they passed north and west of his building. One wail—human, about two years old—rose above both. It was a normal toddler wail, the kid wanted attention, but still his stomach clenched. The kid earlier had whimpered, not wailed. At least not until he dropped him into the arms of an EMT.

He did the math. He’d been out at least five hours every night since Fisk was put away. It didn’t hamper his work at the office, at least it didn’t seem like it. He was used to pulling all-nighters. But he had been feeling the dark, deep hole opening up underneath him for the past couple of nights. The hole that would have him curled up in bed, numb and tired and unwilling to get up. But he couldn’t give into that. He had to put on the happy mask for Foggy and Karen, had to put on the competent mask for his clients, and had to put on the Daredevil’s mask for the people of his city.

God, he was tired. And he missed warm, soft hands to distract him from that yawning, clamoring maw of need outside his window and in his chest.

He slapped a bandage over what was hopefully not a horrible patch-job and began to put away the rest of the first aid kit. He wrapped up his now bloody undershirt and stashed it in the trunk with his suit. He’d burn it later. Great thing about the suit was that blood could just be wiped off. Note to self: keep the suit handy when working cases that involve abusive stalkers with lackeys.

 

____________

 

 

So Matt definitely did _not_ text him about following a lead with the university. As soon as Dekah mentioned who saved her and her kid from Garrett, Foggy knew it was up to him to cover for his vigilante partner.

The visit to the hospital was pretty straightforward, and the subsequent briefing at the police station made it clear that Garrett’s wealthy family was not going to risk posting bail. Apparently they cared less about their son than about how the current media coverage was affecting their shareholder status.

From Dekah’s description, she and Matt had parted ways after visiting the university. Once she went to pick up her son from her mother’s care, Garrett and a few of his friends showed up and cornered her and Ibrahim with knives and guns. He decided to kidnap Ibrahim after hearing about Dekah’s meeting with the firm that put away Wilson Fisk. He got so far as to grab the kid from Dekah’s arms. The police told him that Garrett and his three buddies drove a few blocks before being stopped by runaway garbage bin in the middle of the road ( _Really, Matt?_ ). A brief fight followed with a guy in a black mask, and all four of them were knocked out cold, tied and tressed for the police to pick up moments after the Daredevil disappeared.

One of the EMTs at the scene also painted enough of a picture that Foggy was sure the idiot wasn’t even wearing his dumb bulletproof costume. So, sue him for being worried and turning up unannounced at Matt’s apartment. He considered for a moment to wait until the morning, it was definitely past midnight by now. He was dog tired after running across the city to be a good lawyer to his client. Ah yes, another thing to complain to Matt about. He climbed the staircase, formulating the tongue lashing he planned on giving Matt as soon as he ascertained that he was not on the brink of death again.

“Foggy?”

He skid to a stop as he reached Matt’s floor. “Karen! What are you...uh. Hi.” Oops.

“Hi,” Karen said from her place at the summit of the stairs, sharing what was probably the same deer-in-headlights look.

“I was just—Um, did Matt call you?” _Nice one, Nelson. Very smooth and not suspicious at all_. _Wait, what if that’s why he wasn’t calling me back? Were Matt and Karen…?_

“No, I—I couldn’t sleep. So I offered to help Matt out with paperwork.” Foggy couldn’t tell if Karen was using paperwork as a euphemism, but he wasn’t able to ask more because Matt’s door slid open.

The look on Matt’s face told Foggy that he’d heard the whole exchange.

“Is there a party in my hallway that I don’t know about?”

Foggy glanced at Karen and then cleared his throat. “Now there is! How’s...how’s things?”

“What are you doing here? Is something wrong at the office?” Matt asked, shifting slightly in the doorway.

“I texted you?” Karen said. “Wanted to see if I could help with any of that paperwork.”

“It’s almost one in the morning.” Okay, so Karen showed up uninvited, too. Real paperwork was real. Foggy couldn’t decide if he was relieved or disappointed that Karen wasn’t totally tapping that ass. Someone should be, or at least should be around to make sure that ass isn’t lonely and locked up in the Batcave. Claire apparently got the dating-a-superhero-equals-bad-idea memo.

Speaking of. “Did we wake you?” Foggy asked wryly, already knowing the answer.

Matt hesitated before answering, “No” and moving aside to let them both through the door.

Foggy went straight to one of the armchairs, which had quickly become his armchair over the course of Matt’s stay in the building. Karen settled herself on the couch.

“Y’guys want a beer or something?” Matt asked, one hand raking through his hair as he headed towards the kitchen.

“I’ll take one. Don’t know about you two, but I spent most of my night with Dekah.” Foggy purposefully kept his attention on Karen as he spoke, his tone carefully nonchalant. “Apparently the Daredevil showed up earlier tonight to save her kid from an attempted kidnapping. Her luck, huh?”

Foggy caught Matt wincing as he leaned over to grab a few beers from the fridge. So he _was_ out doing his Daredevil thing tonight, and not some copycat. There’d been a few of those lately.

“Seriously?” Karen said.

“Yep. Took down Garrett and three of his friends. We should probably bring Dekah in tomorrow. I took down her statement, but I thought you’d want to talk to her, too, Matt.”

“Yeah, sure.” Matt popped off the tops and then headed back towards them. “She and Ibrahim holding up okay?”

“That’s what I told your voicemail,” Foggy said pointedly.

Matt pursed his lips and held out one of the beers over the couch for Karen to take. “So, are you guys really here to help me with paperwork, or are you here to berate me for not answering my phone?” 

“Tell the truth, couldn’t sleep,” Karen said, taking a drink. “Those are good supporting reasons, though.”

“Insomnia bothering you too, Foggy?” Matt asked, holding out a beer to him.

More like not being able to sleep until he could confirm Matt was not bleeding out on the floor was bothering Foggy.

Foggy leaned over to take the bottle from Matt’s hand. “You could say that.”

“Well, paperwork can wait until morning and the police report is faxed to the office.”

“So what you’re saying is that this is an excuse to drink and shoot the shit, because our case was basically solved for us?”

“Pretty much,” Matt replied before bringing his beer to his lips.

Foggy wanted to snap at him, but it was hard to be mad at Matt when he was barefoot and obviously exhausted. So he sat back and let Karen tell them about how apparently Hitler teamed up with extraterrestrials to conduct evil experiments.

 

____________

 

 

Karen liked seeing Matt without his glasses. She knew they were mostly for UV protection, but he usually wore them around the office, too. Even when she stayed over last time, he wore them around her. Now, Matt looked more open. Less like he was wearing armor for the sake of the world around him and more like he was at home.

After a couple beers, she felt like she was at home, too. Well, like she was at the office. Which, oddly enough, felt more like home than her new apartment. She was beginning to wonder, playing “Never Have I Ever” with Matt and Foggy, that the reason wasn’t necessarily the office itself after all.

They agreed to leave out the stereotypical sex questions—mostly because Foggy insisted for employment ethics reasons or something like that. So far she’d learned that both Matt and Foggy had broken their left arm, Foggy visited Canada once, and Matt knows most of the steps to the Argentine tango.

“Okay, um. Never have I ever kissed anyone in high school,” Matt chuckled.

“You didn’t miss out on much,” Karen said, putting down a finger. Foggy did too. He did it silently, and Karen looked between him and Matt. After a second of quiet, she mouthed at Foggy pointedly, _Say something?_ ‘Cuz hello. Blind friend playing, too.

But almost as soon as she did, Foggy spoke. Stiffly, like he was waiting for something to blow up in the middle of his sentence.

“Drama class, junior year of high school. Not even for a play or anything either. Scott was cute, so we made out in the lighting room after the spring musical.”

At first all Karen thought was huh, didn’t call that. But then she saw Foggy’s posture. Warning bells started going off in Karen’s head. Her gut was telling her that Foggy probably hadn’t come out to Matt. Then her mind started picking up some of the pieces. Memories of longing looks and how fucked up he got after he and Matt got in that fight— _Oh. Oh boy._

Speaking of Matt, he was staring in Foggy’s direction, his head tilted a little but his expression blank.

“Gonna say anything?” Foggy said, his grin weak and his shoulders turning inward. Karen was a half a second away from shutting the whole thing down if Matt said anything stupid.

“Uh. I kinda already figured you’ve been a charmer of all genders?” Matt stammered out.

Foggy stared and then slumped back into his chair, placing a hand over his eyes. “Of course you did.”

“Why didn’t you want to tell me?”

“I thought you’d, I don’t know, ask for another roommate or something.”

“You thought I’d blow you off.”

Foggy laughed dryly. “I mean, at first it was the whole Catholic thing. I didn’t want to make things weird, you know?”

“You know my—” Matt paused his protest. “You know I’m no saint.” Foggy made a sound like he was going to argue, but Matt talked over him. “Foggy, you’re the last fucking person I’d throw stones at my glass house for,” Matt said, picking at the label on his beer bottle. Karen smiled, and looked at Foggy, whose cheeks were beginning to flush.

“Yeah. Well. Thanks,” the blond man shrugged, his relief palpable. “How’d you figure, anyway?”

“Dude, after you watched _Luther_ you wouldn’t shut up about Idris Elba for months.”

“I think he’d be a great Bond.” Foggy shrugged, then smirked. “He also looks as good as cologne smells.”

“Amen to that,” Karen raised her glass.

“For the record,” Matt added, plunking his bottle down on the table. “My first crush was this kid Manuel from Sunday School.” Karen nearly choked on her beer while Foggy blinked, stunned.

“Well, since we’re all coming out of the closet tonight,” Karen drawled, “I guess I’d call myself asexual.”

“What, like not interested in sex?” Matt asked, allowing Foggy to recover from his best friend’s confession.

“Yep,” she chirped, liking the way her present company (and the alcohol) made her own confession wash over her like a balm. She didn’t need to tell them everything, just this one aspect. And it felt right, getting the label off of her chest.

Foggy eventually came around back to the conversation. “You date, though?” he asked.  

“Not recently. Not many people get the whole no-sex thing,” Karen admitted. “And I’m in no rush to jump into any sort of relationship with any gender.”

“You prefer a back rub instead of getting naked,” Matt mused.

Karen studied her friend. “Yeah.”

Matt shrugged. “I know the feeling.”

“Aw, Mattie, you want a back rub?” Foggy teased. “Perhaps from _Manuel_?”

Matt feigned tossing his beer bottle at Foggy and Karen giggled.

“Did you do the face thing with Manuel?” Karen wheedled.

“Why am _I_ the one being grilled about my boyhood escapades?” Matt whined. He tilted his head up, closing his eyes. “Fine. yes. I did the face thing.”

“Awwww,” Karen crooned, imagining shy little Matt in the throes of puppy love.

“You know Karen made me do the face thing to her?” Foggy stage whispered to Matt. 

Karen’s stomach dropped to her toes. “Foggy!” she protested just as Matt laughed “ _What_? Why?” She felt her cheeks flood with heat. Shit, at least Matt couldn’t see her. Matt managed to construct a politely curious expression as he waited for her to answer.

“I was _curious_ ,” she explained.

Matt furrowed his brow. “I’ve never—?”

“Nope,” Foggy drawled, popping the ‘p’. The bastard looked so pleased with himself. Matt, on the other hand, looked sheepish.

“I know it’s nothing personal,” Karen assured him. “I just. You know. Wanted to know what it felt like.”

“What did it feel like?” Matt asked, his chin resting on his hand as he lounged against the armrest of his chair. Damn him and that gentle tone he always took when he felt like he might scare someone off. She guessed it came from dealing with distraught or potentially dangerous clients. Still, she wondered how he managed to feel like he might scare someone in the first place. Sure, he got that frighteningly far-away look sometimes when he was angry. And she wasn’t stupid, she knew he got into fights every once in a while. What jackass would pick a fight with a blind guy? Fucking Hell’s Kitchen, seriously.

“Awkward, at first. It felt like one of those trust exercises. But it was also calming, like a massage. Foggy has nice hands.” She grinned slyly at that last comment, savoring her revenge as Foggy went bright red again.

“She touched my face too,” he muttered petulantly. Matt failed to hide his wide grin behind his hand.

“I’m sorry, but that’s really adorable.”

Karen smiled at Foggy, who glared at her half heartedly. “I guess it is.”

“Do you—” Matt started, then paused to scratch his jaw. “Do you want me to—”

“Sure!” Yeah, she responded to that _way_ too quickly.

Matt swallowed. “I mean, you don’t have to. It’s just nice to have a—a reference.” He huffed. “And I know it’s a weird trust thing, so—”

“Matt,” Karen stated bluntly. “I said sure.”

Matt blinked a few times before beginning to stand. Karen glanced at Foggy. Would this be weird? It felt like it might be weird to do this in front of another person. But the other person was _Foggy_. And Foggy had this odd little wistful smile tugging up the corner of his mouth.

Matt sat next to her on the couch. He fidgeted for a moment before raising his hands. She grasped his wrists and helped guide his hands to her jawline. Matt’s hands were rougher than Foggy’s, a lot rougher. Close up, she was able to see the thick callouses on his knuckles. He was hesitant at first, just resting his palms lightly along her jaw. Eventually he inched his fingers up to her earlobes. Karen was pretty sure Matt could feel her pulse thud through her skin.

Thing is, she never really cared much for people touching her. Most of the time, she was 100% fine without it. Because it usually meant expectations of something else. But Foggy and Matt, she trusted them. She needed them in her life in a way that was almost painful. She wasn’t sure if this was quite what love was—too many people told her she couldn’t _really_ love anyone—but this felt right, their hands gentle on her face felt right. It felt like coming home.

Matt’s fingers brushed lightly over her cheeks and forehead. His lips twitched as he concentrated, probably trying to commit the sensations to memory. Karen tried to stay as still as possible, but when he touched the sensitive space under her nose she couldn’t help but wriggle.

“That tickles,” she grinned. Matt’s lips curled upwards in response and ran his index finger along the bridge of her nose. Then he pinched it. Karen jerked back, laughing and batting at his hand.

“I’m done! I’m done,” Matt teased, raising his hands in surrender.

“Anyone for another beer?” Foggy asked, already halfway out of his chair. She and Matt both declined, and Matt moved back to his chair.

“Foggy told me he only let you do the face thing to him once,” Karen broached to Matt. She know Foggy could hear her. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the dumb feelings that were starting to bubble up unbidden, but she knew she recognized that look of pining. And she wanted to do something about it.

“Yeah. Early on in law school, wasn’t it?” Matt asked. Foggy shrugged from behind the kitchen counter.

“Pretty sure it was during one of our night outs,” he replied.

“Things have changed since then, though, haven’t they?” Karen pressed.

“I haven’t lost any weight, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Foggy deadpanned. Karen rolled her eyes.

“No, I’m just saying that you look different from your grad photo.”

Matt sat up straighter in his seat. “He does?”

Foggy ignored Matt’s question. “When did you see my grad photo?”

“Facebook.”

“Did you shave or something?” Matt asked. Karen smothered a smirk. Hooked.

Foggy fumbled with the bottle opener in the kitchen. He didn’t answer until the cap popped off. “Um. I cut my hair after graduation. And uh, yeah, I’ve been clean shaven since second year.” He took a long drink, wincing when some of it sloshed on his shirt. Karen snorted.

“Wouldn’t hurt to have an update every once in a while?” Karen mused, letting her suggestion settle in the room.

Matt swallowed. “Hearing about a haircut is a little different than actually, uh, feeling it.”

“Good thing I showered this morning,” Foggy muttered.

“Listen, I totally get it if you don’t want to go through it again,” Matt waved off. “Forget about it.”

Karen almost felt bad when she saw the look on Foggy’s face. The guy was so used to gazing longingly at his best friend, he probably couldn’t tell when he was doing it anymore.

“Will you two stop dancing around and do the face touching thing,” she finally blurted out, partially teasing and partially frustrated. “Jesus. I’ll leave the room if you want me to.”

To be honest, she was expecting Foggy to throw the joke back at her, or Matt to be infuriatingly diplomatic about the whole thing. She was definitely expecting gestures of machismo. Instead, both of them looked like kicked puppies. Silence hung in the room for an uncomfortable amount of time. Definitely long enough to wordlessly expose the truth of why neither of the boys protested her implication.

The third beer obviously steeled Foggy’s nerves, because the next thing he said was

“Well, if you want to touch my face, Matt, you should probably know that I’ve had a crush on you since the moment I met you.”

 

____________

 

 

Matt was almost prepared for some kind of confession. He heard Foggy’s heartbeat tick up more and more as the silence dragged on, a clear indication that his friend was holding back a serious truthbomb. He just didn’t know it would be those words exactly.

And now that it was said, Matt didn’t know how to react. It was one thing to anticipate someone’s actions through their biology and movements, responding was a whole other thing entirely. None of Stick’s lessons ever covered this.

He could be blasé about it, telling Foggy about his suspicions like he did about assuming Foggy’s sexuality. But that would be crude, invalidating.

He could confess right back, telling Foggy that he would do literally anything for him. But he knew that wasn’t true. He couldn’t give up fighting the city’s shadows as Daredevil, and he knew that was what Foggy wanted, deep down.

Matt took a shaky breath.

“Okay,” he said. “Take a seat.” He gestured in the direction of Foggy’s chair. There was no response at first. His mouth was dry as he waited, ears straining to catch his friend’s next movement.

Foggy eventually did move, and he moved towards the chair. Matt dared to think that maybe he didn’t just completely fuck things up. Matt cleared his throat, and made his way in front of Foggy’s chair. He hesitantly reached out to where he assumed Foggy’s arm was. It was easier to gauge where his face was if he knew where the rest of Foggy’s body was.

“You cool?” Matt murmured.

Foggy’s voice was steadier than expected. “I’m cool.”

Foggy’s heartbeat had a difference cadence from Karen’s, but it conveyed the same message as Matt placed his hands on his friend’s jaw, close to his chin. Nervousness, excitement, melting into calm once he got used to Matt’s fingers on his face. Matt used the same pathway as he did with Karen, moving back to Foggy’s ears. He let his fingers map out the length of Foggy’s hair. It was definitely shorter than he remembered.

“I think I like this better,” Matt said as he swiped his fingers over Foggy’s brow, then down his cheekbones towards his nose.

“Huh?” Foggy huffed, obviously distracted.

“Shorter hair, sans goatee. I think I like it. You probably look less like a hippie.”

“Asshole,” Foggy muttered, but his tone had no venom in it. In fact, Matt felt Foggy’s cheek move in what was probably a smile. 

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was that hungry maw snapping at his heels, threatening to drag him down. Maybe it was just the fact that he didn’t believe he deserved such a good, kind, loving person in his life for this long. Still, he pressed a kiss to Foggy’s temple, letting his lips linger. He hoped the gesture conveyed how much he couldn’t vocalize.

As he pulled away, he felt Foggy’s hand on his shoulder. He paused, hearing Foggy’s heart speed up again. _Oh shit, he’s—_

And yep. Those were Foggy’s lips on his. Light, chaste. Hardly a kiss really.

All too soon, Foggy leaned back cleared his throat. “Sorry for the dramatics, Karen.”

Matt heard Karen huff. “Oh please. The only thing you two need to be sorry about is that you didn’t figure this out sooner.”

Matt coughed and stood, a little less gracefully than he hoped. “It’s been a long night. We could all use some sleep. If either of you want to stay, I can make up the couch. Karen, you can take the bed—”

“Okay, first of all you’re not going to just kiss Foggy and pretend like we’re going to all have a sleepover and forget about it,” Karen cut him off. “I’m tired and have just had three beers, so you know what? I think we’ve all had enough alone time. Bedroom, both of you.”

Matt heard Karen’s feet stomp towards the bedroom.

“What just happened?” he asked Foggy, confused and a little disoriented.

“No clue,” Foggy answered. A whoosh of air and a squeak told him Foggy stood. “Karen wants us in the bedroom. And it’s clearly not for sex-related reasons.”

Matt followed Foggy towards the bedroom.

“She’s sitting cross-legged on top of the covers in the middle of the bed,” Foggy explained. “She looks determined.”

“Damn right I’m determined,” Karen said. “You want to know the real reason I came here? I am fucking sick of my nightmares and I didn’t want to have to choose between staying up all night at the office or heading home.”

Matt could hear the pain in her voice. Something was wrong, beyond just nightmares. For a second he wondered if she was upset about him and Foggy. But then he could hear the stutter of her breath, and he was reminded of something he noticed months ago, just before Ben was killed. Her voice.

“Karen…” Matt started towards the bed, but he second guessed whether that would be the right move.

“Sorry. Dramatics, right?”

Foggy’s voice was soft, earnest. “Karen, tell us what you need.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Can we just...can I have both of you hang out until I pass out?”

Matt was in the bed before he could think the motion through. He held out a hand, and Karen almost instantly filled the space between his arm and his chest. His bruised ribs protested, but he managed to shove down the pain. He could take it.

He thought about how he was yearning for a warm touch in the midst of a crappy night, and figured that he wasn’t the only one.

“If I knew the face thing had this kind of effect, I would deploy it more wisely,” he joked, holding Karen as tightly as she was to him.

“Whatever is going on between you and Foggy, I’m not trying to butt in. I just…” She trailed off, and Matt wasn’t sure how to respond. “I care about both of you. Equally. Take that as you will.”

Matt chewed the inside of his cheek. Sure, he cared about Foggy, but he had no fucking clue to what that translated to. Romance, crush, whatever it was. But he still felt that for Claire. And, yeah, for Karen. It wasn’t like he wanted to _choose_ , fuck that.

Matt sighed, and rested a hand between her shoulder blades. “Listen. I know I’m only part of this. But if you ask me, I think you’ve fit in whatever this is...ever since you showed up at the office.”

Karen’s face was still pressed up against his chest. Her heartbeat was slowing.

“The foreman speaks for the jury, your honor,” Foggy added. That enticed a groan from Karen, but she slowly untangled herself from Matt’s arms. One of her hands reached out and Matt felt Foggy climb in.

“Really?” Foggy said, one of his hands on Matt’s shoulder. “This warrants a group hug?”

“Shut up,” Matt and Karen chimed.

Karen eventually manhandled Matt into lying down so she could rest her head on his chest, her body curled up under the covers as Matt laid on top. Foggy sat up against the headboard, and talked about the one time he was invited to join a poly commune out in Pennsylvania for a summer. Karen’s snarky responses eventually became more and more slurred as she drifted.

At one point, Foggy fell silent in his reminiscing.

“Karen?” Foggy whispered. Matt knew Karen had been dead to the world for the past five minutes so she, of course, didn’t respond.

“She’s out,” Matt murmured, lightly playing with Karen’s hair. It was not very thick, but it was long and soft. The beer on her breath mingled with the artificial flower scent of her conditioner. It didn’t quite fill that black hole, but it was enough.

“It’s just. You’re, um.” Matt felt a tug on his sleeve. “Bleeding through your shirt.”

Matt grunted, “S’nothing. Just need a new bandage.” He started to formulate the best way to get out of bed without disturbing Karen.

“No, stay. I know where the kit is, when...” He meant That Night, Matt surmised. “Yeah. Be right back.”’

Luckily the wounded arm was not the one Karen was sleeping on. When Foggy came back into the room, Matt held out his arm like a good patient. His friend was careful as he peeled back the gauze. Foggy wasn’t able to completely hide the sharp intake of air when he saw the slash mark.

“Nice hack job.”

Matt gave Foggy his best bitchface and got soft snort in response. He was silent, though, as Foggy changed his bandage.

“I’m not going to be able to cover for you forever, you know,” Foggy murmured, folding Matt’s sleeve down after he was done. “Karen’s smart.”

Matt sighed. He knew. It was just...he wasn’t sure if Karen was ready for the truth. It nearly destroyed his relationship with Foggy, and they’d known each other for years. In any case, Karen wasn’t ready to share her own secrets. And Matt had to respect that.

“You think this can work?” Matt asked, the question mostly rhetorical. It was something he’d thought about for months now. Hell, ever since Nelson and Murdock opened shop.

Foggy’s tone was strangely upbeat. “This little trio?” A movement of air over his body told Matt Foggy had gestured towards them. “Took down Wilson Fisk. You wanna know what I think? I think we can handle just about anything now.”

Matt wanted to believe him. God, he wanted to. But his gut was telling him that Fisk wasn’t even the beginning.

The bed dipped slightly as Foggy sat down. Karen shifted on Matt’s chest, then settled. Her breathing eased further into deep sleep. Matt knew she needed it.

“Okay, maybe I’m a naive bastard,” Foggy sighed. “But what else can I do? I refuse to have a tragic death panel in your comicbook. Karen, too. We deserve more than that, man.”

“I can’t write the future, Foggy,” Matt warned.

“Well, have your priest buddy put in a good word for us,” Foggy said after a beat. “We could use all the help we can get.”

Matt huffed, mirthlessly. “Trust me, that’s the only thing I pray about these days.”

Foggy didn’t reply this time, instead Matt felt Foggy lever himself to lie down along Matt’s right side, opposite Karen. Matt found himself bracketed by his friends, and despite himself his heart lodged into his throat.

A familiar hand rested on his fist. Matt opened his hand instantly, accepting Foggy’s comfort. Obviously encouraged, his friend wriggled closer until he was flush up against Matt’s side.

“It’s gonna get warm in here,” Matt whispered.

“I told you that you should have gotten the apartment with central A/C,” Foggy replied, squeezing his hand. He heard, felt, Foggy yawn, his body’s nervousness to the new status quo tempered by exhaustion.

It was a tight fit, the three of them curled into one another in Matt’s bed. But it didn’t feel claustrophobic. It felt cozy, calm. It felt like shelter.

Matt closed his eyes, and let his senses rest with Karen and Foggy’s heartbeats. The sirens seemed to fade.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Headcanon: Matt is demisexual, Karen is asexual, Foggy is pansexual but has a low sex drive—all of them are panromantic nerds who are touch-deprived. Bottom line: they are more interested in sad avocado family cuddle piles than sex. Also, Claire and Marci def fit in the cuddle pile if the opportunity arises._

_Poly ace panromantic sad avocado family cuddle piles ftw_

_Edit: This will be part 1 of a series, so stay tuned. You can stay most tuned by following me on[Tumblr](http://www.dreamingstarkly.tumblr.com)._

_Also fuck Fall Out Boy and their song[Alone Together.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MuNTFGnVm4k) To be honest, fuck all the Matt x Foggy x Karen 8tracks. [Fuck ](http://8tracks.com/shortypenguin/you-re-the-greatest-thing-about-me) [these ](http://8tracks.com/rictors/the-good-old-days) [in ](http://8tracks.com/rebeccus/you-re-not-alone-matt) [particular](http://8tracks.com/mieromi/one-line-from-your-heart-to-mine). I am ruined. Good night._


End file.
